A Second Chance

Part 63 - Investigation's over

I was up before my alarm the next morning.

Renner's office address was a ten minute drive from the hotel, close enough that I didn't need to rush but far enough that showing up too early would look off. I grabbed a coffee from the small place downstairs, ate something quick, and was in the SUV by seven-fifteen.

The building was a narrow three-story office block tucked between two larger commercial properties on a street that saw moderate foot traffic in the mornings. It had a small reception on the ground floor visible through the front window, a directory board by the door, and nothing about it that would make anyone look twice. I found a parking spot with a decent sightline to the entrance and settled in.

The morning moved slowly.

A handful of people came and went through the front entrance between seven-thirty and nine, none of them matching anything useful. I kept my eyes on the door and finished my coffee and reminded myself that this was just the job. Waiting was most of it.

Renner showed up at nine-twenty.

I knew it was him before I could explain why. He was mid-forties, average height, dressed in business casual with a leather satchel over one shoulder. It was the way he moved that caught my attention, deliberate without being rushed, the kind of walk that belonged to someone who was used to being careful about what they let show. He went through the front entrance without looking around, which meant he was either not expecting trouble or confident enough that he didn't feel he needed to.

I gave it fifteen minutes, then got out of the SUV.

I went in through the front, checked the directory like I was looking for a different office, and took the stairs up to the second floor where Renner's listing was. The hallway was short and quiet, three doors on each side, and his was the second on the right with a frosted glass panel and the name Crestline Cargo Solutions printed on it in small letters.

I knocked.

There was a pause, then the door opened and Renner looked at me with the expression of someone who wasn't expecting a visitor but was practiced enough not to show much about it.

"Can I help you?" he said.

"Morning," I said. "Detective Walk, GCPD. I'm doing a routine follow-up on some commercial activity in the south district. Mind if I come in for a few minutes?"

He looked at me for just a beat longer than was natural, then stepped back and opened the door wider.

The office was tidy and deliberately plain. A desk, two chairs, a filing cabinet, a laptop, and nothing on the walls. It was the kind of space that said the person using it didn't plan on being here longer than they needed to be.

"What kind of commercial activity?" Renner asked, sitting down behind the desk without offering me the other chair.

I sat down anyway.

"Freight movement in the south district's been flagged a couple of times recently," I said, keeping it vague and casual. "Nothing major, just some irregular patterns we're keeping an eye on. Your name came up as a contact on a license connected to the area, so I'm just doing the rounds."

"I run a forwarding consultancy," he said. "Everything's fully registered."

"I'm sure it is," I said. "Just a couple of quick questions and I'll be out of your way."

He was good. He answered everything I asked with just enough detail to sound cooperative without actually giving me anything useful. No hesitation, no visible discomfort, nothing that would have flagged to someone who wasn't already looking for it. But there were two things that told me everything I needed to know.